


Adjustment Period

by Iron_Angel



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Biting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ghoul Sex, Sequel, welcome to rare pair hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 15:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron_Angel/pseuds/Iron_Angel
Summary: Returning to Sanctuary, the Vault-Tec Rep has a hard time acclimating and finding his place within the rebuilding settlement. Then Nora comes home.Sequel toTime Cures All





	Adjustment Period

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: *insert standard "don't own, no profits made" jargon here* 
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes/typos are mine. I'll correct them as I find them.

Nearly a month, and he still wasn't used to it.

He still remembered driving over the bridge in his Vault-Tec-issued van and marveling at the clean lines and pristine colors of the newly built "homes of the future" of Sanctuary Hills. He also remembered waking up to the bleak devastation of those same houses gutted and burned from the nuclear blast.

 _Before_ and _After_.

Sanctuary after _After_ was unlike anything he had expected when Nora had told him she and her 'friends' had rebuilt it. The past settlements he had drifted to before ending up in Goodneighbor were ramshackle and small; mostly just family groups trying their best to scratch out a living with basic shelter and pathetic little plots of what were really nothing more than stubborn, edible weeds. By contrast, Sanctuary was... well, clean. It was obviously still a work in progress, but all the debris had been cleared, and what hadn't been repurposed already had been stacked in a pile off to the side to be used later. The still standing houses had been swept, refurnished, and were being built on to. And there were actual thriving gardens. Only the turrets and armed guard patrolling at the bridge and near the shallow stream broke the illusion of it being the perfect little community.

They'd let him in with barely a fuss. When he told the guard on duty that Nora had sent him, he was given two simple rules: "If you work, you eat." and "When raiders come, you pick up a gun and defend." Easy.

But it wasn't easy.

He wasn't any good with a hammer, and he was even less of a green thumb. When he nearly made the mistake of pulling up the razorgrain plants while weeding, the highly irritable woman in charge of the crops -- Marcy, he'd later learn -- demoted him to water carrier, hauling buckets from the purifiers to the plots from sunup to sundown. Exhausting, back-breaking work for one who'd never been more than a fast-talker and pencil-pusher.

He'd hoped after weeks of it, he'd eventually get used to it. He wasn't. Nor was he used to having to go from being isolated and sleeping alone to suddenly having to share a bunkhouse with ghouls _and_ humans, regardless of how friendly they all were. Some nights, he was too tired and sore to be bothered by it, and he'd collapse into oblivious, dreamless sleep on his cot. Most, however, he just couldn't.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Though still relatively early in the evening, the bunkhouse was already filled with the snores of worn out settlers sleeping off another hard day. He tried and failed to will himself to join them, but nothing worked. And the more he laid there, the more irritated he got. It was more than he was willing to bear.

Inwardly grumbling to himself, he rose as quietly as he could to creep past his bunkmates and out into the darkened street.

Sanctuary didn't have an excess of lights like Goodneighbor or Diamond City; high up and surrounded on almost all sides by a large expanse of water, it would shine like a beacon to wandering raiding parties. With his ghoul night vision, though, it didn't bother him.

Deciding to avoid the buildings with what few lit lanterns there were, he wandered with no particular aim towards the cul-de-sac. Despite having returned awhile ago, he hadn't gotten around to exploring much. Two of the houses he remembered being there had been completely flattened in the blast. Now the spaces were home to a pair of large structures under construction.

And, curiously, a small but solid-looking little building standing in what was probably someone's fenced-in backyard, way back when.

He hadn't seen anyone head to the cul-de-sac that hadn't come back later after day's end, but he lightly knocked on the door anyway in case someone was inside. Receiving no answer at the second knock, he let himself in.

Small holes in the metal roof and sides let in just enough light for his night vision to see an arm chair and unlit lantern on an end table just past the entry. Further back and behind a makeshift dividing screen was a full sized bed, blankets neatly tucked and pillow fluffed.

Had he not been so tired and overcome with the urge to lay down on the wonderfully pristine bed, he might have thought better of it. It was quiet and secluded, and his foggy-headed logic reasoned that if it wasn't currently in use, then the owner must be away or perhaps on guard duty. And that being the case, he could put everything back to rights in the morning before anyone was the wiser.

Removing his work-soiled trenchcoat and clothes, he laid down on top of the covers -- a token of respect for the owner -- and fell asleep almost immediately.

~

It couldn't have been longer than an hour or two later when he was awakened by the sound of the door opening and closing and something that jangled as it landed heavily on the armchair. Absolutely no way to escape, panic shot through him as footsteps came closer, and he sat bolt upright in the bed.

The sound of a gun's hammer cocking simultaneously merged with his hoarse croak of, "I'm sorry! Don't shoot! I'm sorry!" as he raised his hands in surrender.

"Charlie?!" he heard Nora gasp, and she lowered her gun.

He could have easily fainted from the rush and sheer volume of emotions that hit him all at once, but it was elation that pushed to the fore. "Nora! You... you came to visit! I almost thought you wouldn't!"

She gave a tired chuckle and holstered her 10mm before setting to work unbuckling her belt and armor. "These are my personal quarters. What are you doing in my bed, Charlie?"

He dumbly looked down at himself and the bed, and his brain put two-and-two together. Wastelanders who owned blankets and pillows didn't bother with making their beds; this was -- obvious to him now -- a pre-war habit.

He sighed, letting his shoulders slump. "The bunkhouse is... I'm not used to being around so many people after being alone in Goodneighbor for so long. I didn't know this was yours. I was just looking for someplace quiet."

"Well, I can't blame you there."

He looked up at her when he felt her weight settle at the foot of the bed. Too dark for details, but he could guess by her bent form she was working at her leg armor and boots. His heart leapt into his throat at the sound of a zipper being pulled down, followed by it moving to pound in his ears as she stood and shimmied out of her vault suit.

He'd thought a lot about their night together in Goodneighbor, the memory of their love-making being his main source of comfort on the hike from the "den of sin" back to Sanctuary. But Sanctuary wasn't Goodneighbor. As much as he wanted her again, the situation was different now. Anyone wanting to keep a good reputation among humans didn't bed with ghouls.

Shuffling to the edge of the bed, he swung his legs over the side and scanned around for the mass that would be his clothes somewhere on the floor.

"Are you leaving?" she asked, catching his attention by turning to look at him, though he could barely see more than her outline.

He snapped his eyes away. "I-I really should," he stammered, picking up his clothes and standing.

He could practically hear the shrug in her voice. "Your choice." She slid into the bed, let out a soft little moan as she stretched, then propped on her side. "But I wouldn't mind it if you wanted to stay."

His admittedly feeble resistance crumbled at her patting the mattress next to her in an invitation.

Holding on to the last scraps of his self-control, though, he dropped his clothes and climbed in carefully, avoiding touching her as best he could in the limited space. An offer to share a bed wasn't permission to jump her bones.

"May I?" she whispered.

He gave a hum of acquiescence, not knowing or really caring what she was asking for.

The world stopped and then swirled wildly as she cuddled up next to him, resting her head on his chest.

With her naked torso pressed against him.

"Oh my god!" he involuntarily wheezed out, voice high and thin. No amount of willing it away and trying to distract himself with unpleasant thoughts -- he couldn't even begin to think of any -- would stop the blood rushing to his loins at that moment.

She jerked her head back up in surprise. "Are you okay?!" Her hand slid over the place she had rested against as if feeling for an injury. "Did I hurt you?!" Spiraling so far out of his wits from her continued touch, he failed to notice, to stop her worried exploration, until her hand brushed against his rapidly hardening cock straining against his briefs. "Oh." A heartbeat. " _Oh!_ "

Finding his voice again, he breathed out a slightly slurred, "'m sorry." But he couldn't bring himself to move or brush her hand away. He was greedy; he _wanted_ her to keep touching him. And he wanted more, more, _more_.

 _Fortune favors the bold_ was a phrase he lived by as a sales representative, and it'd never failed him.

"But god, Nora, I want you," he rasped out, reaching up but stopping just short of touching her cheek.

He could do this. He could wait for her permission. He could accept her rejection. He could. Damn it, he _would!_

He could have almost cried in relief when she whispered a soft, sweet "yes" and moved to brace over him. She pressed her cheek into his palm, brushing a kiss against his wrist before leaning down to place another just slightly up and to the left of his mouth.

She huffed an "oops" and a laugh, reminding him she was virtually blind in the dark shelter. Reaching up again, he slid his hand along the nape of her neck to guide her lower, letting out a groan as she let him kiss her, firm and thorough. His other senses were sharper for his lack of clear sight, and his blood burned hot at the feel of her body, warm and soft and solid, atop him. He wanted patience to take his time and savor her, but she was better and worse than any chem he might have tried over his centuries alone.

The one hand still tangled in her hair, he fought the ever-present compulsion to bite as he licked and nibbled down her throat, his free hand sliding down her smooth back. Feeling the rough elastic edge of her panties, he hooked his finger in the waistband and tugged down. As she shifted to the side to pull the undergarment the rest of the way off, he rolled, pinning her beneath him.

The heat of her core bled through the old cotton of his briefs as he settled into the cradle of her hips, bringing him to full hardness. He wanted nothing more than to plunge into her, but he held himself back, knowing he would have his soon enough.

Forcing himself to calm down, he bent to kiss her again, gentle, nipping ever so softly at her lip, before moving down to mouth at her breast. He was rewarded with a delightful sound like a purr, her hands sliding along the scarred skin of his shoulders and neck and into his hair.

Her touch and sounds sent an ever sharper thrill through him.

 _More_.

He distracted her by carefully running his teeth over her taut nipple as he trailed his hand over the soft swell of her stomach and down. She hissed and writhed as his rough fingers slid through her folds, a half moment's search finding her stiff little nub. She let out a whimpering moan, head falling back, as he stroked and rubbed in the way he remembered that she liked.

Her fingers against his scalp flexed as if she were fighting the urge to pull.

_More!_

Releasing her breast, he indulged a slightly harder nip of her bottom lip before kissing her breathless. "Oh god, Nora, I want to devour you," he groaned against her mouth.

"Fuck me, Charlie!" she panted, shuddering all over. "Please, fuck me!"

Not wanting to let her go even for the bare few heartbeats to remove his briefs, he shoved them down only enough to free his cock. Letting her take him in hand to help guide him, he pushed into her in one hard thrust.

She very nearly shrieked, and her hand flew to her mouth to muffle it. But she liked it hard, so he gave it to her hard. And in a handful of thrusts, both were too far gone to care about whatever noises they made.

"Yes! Oh god, yes, Charlie, please, just like th--! _AH!_ S-so close!" she cried out, the bed creaking in rhythm. "Right... _THERE!_ "

She arched as her orgasm hit, letting out a sharp keen as he lost control and bit down on her shoulder as he followed immediately after, feeling as if he was spilling his entire lifeforce into her.

~

The guilt was nearly killing him as he placed another strip of tape over the gauze covering the wound. Nora, however, still looked blissed out as she laid sprawled on the bed, letting him tend to her. She hadn't complained during or even after, content to leave the bite untreated; as a "mark of pride" she'd said.

Pressing the final strip into place, she flinched slightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered for what felt like the hundredth time. "I shouldn't have... I couldn't stop myself..."

Her eyes glittering and oddly dark in the lantern light, she reached out and took his hand. "The bite doesn't bother me," she said softly. She turned the hand, palm up. "These are rougher now. More calloused." She trailed her fingers along the thickened skin. "I didn't expect it, so I was surprised."

He looked at the palm of his free hand, a bitterness filling him. "Buckets," he grumbled.  
  
She cocked her head to the side, confused. "Beg pardon?"

"I'm a water carrier. Not much cushioning on the bucket handles."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Why do I have the feeling that this has something to do with Marcy?" At his own puzzled look -- how would she know that? -- she sighed again. "Marcy's favorite punishment for newcomers that irritate her -- and believe me, she does it a _lot_ \-- is to have them haul buckets." She gave him an apologetic look. "I do, in fact, have an irrigation system for the crops here. Or rather, Sturges does."

He didn't know whether to be angry, shocked, or both at the revelation.

The feeling fell away to a much softer kind of amazement as Nora lifted his hand to her cheek and nuzzled it. "If you promise not to be too angry with her, I have a much better job for you, if you'd like."

"A-a job...? Really?"

She smiled brightly at his sudden piqued interest. "Yes." She let his hand fall away as she scooted over to the other side of the bed and laid back. "I have a new trade route plan, and I think your sales experience could be a great asset."

His sales experience? Could she really...? "You do? That would be..." Excitement began knotting in his stomach. "That would be great!"

She covered a quiet yawn, then rolled onto her side, patting the mattress again. "Sleep here with me tonight? And we can talk it over in the morning."

Blowing out the lantern and settling in next to her, he doubted sleep would come to him, he was so excited. In a very good way, she had turned his world upside down yet again. This time giving him hope.

Hope for the future.

He could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are lifeblood and always appreciated.


End file.
